He was painting and living in the country, and maybe from time to time his thoughts flitted to her, thinking about what could have been if she’d been braver.
“How badly would I have to hurt you to make you admit to killing my son?” Despite his almost conversational tone, Paskin’s pale blue eyes shone with malice.
Fear spiked in Eleri’s chest, stealing her breath. “Griffin left because he hated you.”
“If I broke a few fingers, maybe? An arm? Or would I have to make you bleed?”
He won’t do anything. Not here. Not where someone could see him.
What did he care if someone passing saw? No one in the village would come to her defence. Paskin owned the local pub. People loved him—and hated her. They’d think she was getting what she deserved.
Paskin lunged for her and she bolted. His thick fingers tangled in her hair jerking her back. Sharp needles stung her scalp.
She reached back and clawed at his hands, all the while trying to yank free from his grasp. He ground out a curse, grip loosening, and she stumbled away, strands of hair ripping from her scalp.
“You little bitch,” he growled.
Eleri scrambled back, hand pressed to her stinging scalp. She had to get away. Before things turned out like last time, only without Griff to help her—
Her back slammed into something warm and solid. An arm wrapped around her waist like a vice, holding her tight. White fear swept through her. Her legs turned to mush.
God help her, Paskin wasn’t alone.
Chapter Four
Fear surged through Eleri like a wave. She shoved at the arm banded around her waist, tried to twist free. His grip squeezed tighter. Rough stubble scraped her cheek. Warm breath whispered against the skin beneath her ear.
“It’s me, Eleri.” Kyle’s gravel voice penetrated the terror encapsulating her brain. She froze, heartbeat thundering inside her chest.
What was he doing here? Helping her, or Paskin? She held her breath, body tense, ready to resume fighting her way free.
“This is nothing to do with you, lad,” Paskin growled, light eyes never leaving her face. “Best see to your own business and leave us to finish ours.”
The arm at her waist loosened and Eleri curled her fingers into Kyle’s coat sleeve. Under normal circumstances, she would have swallowed glass before admitting she needed help, especially from a man she wished would go back to wherever he came from. But right then, she was ready to sink to her knees and beg Kyle not to leave her alone.
Instead of letting her go, he eased her behind him, putting himself between her and Paskin.
“Your business is finished,” Kyle ground out.
Stunned, Eleri stared at his broad back. When was the last time someone defended her?
The gesture hadn’t been lost on Paskin, either.
“You’re protecting her? Too bloody rich,” Paskin sneered. “She’s a murderer. She killed my boy.”
“Get in your car and get the hell out of here,” Kyle told him.
Paskin’s face darkened. “You listen to me—”
“No, you listen,” Eleri cut in, slipping out from behind Kyle so she stood shoulder to shoulder with him. As surreal as having this strange man coming to her defence was, she had to stand her ground. “Leave and don’t come back, or I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.”
Paskin ignored her, glare fixed on Kyle. “You remember this moment when the time comes.”
Eleri’s cheeks burned. Impotent fury circled inside her belly and left her nauseous. “Get out of here, Paskin!”
He didn’t spare her a glance, his attention solely on Kyle, but he retreated, walking backward toward the van. “She’ll kill you, too.”
Kyle’s expression remained stoic. He might have heard the stories about her, but now he’d come face-to-face with the reality. Surely he’d leave the lodge.
A pang too close to disappointment for her liking pierced her chest. Ridiculous. She wanted him gone before something happened—especially now.
Paskin pulled his truck onto the road and sped away, tires squealing. Eleri watched until his taillights disappeared around the bend in the road and the sound of his motor faded. Quiet descended like a soft blanket. Only the wind in the trees and birds twittering from branch to branch remained.
She released the breath she’d been holding, locked her shaking knees so she wouldn’t sink to the ground. She wanted to collapse into the cool, wet grass, wrap her arms around her middle and curl into a ball.
But she couldn’t. Not here. Not with an audience.
Instead, she slipped her hands into the rear pockets of her trousers so Kyle wouldn’t notice how badly they shook then met his furious scowl.
“What?” she asked, taking a step back. She wished her voice wasn’t so hoarse.
“Why in the hell didn’t you call for help?”
“I didn’t know you were there.” But thank God he had been. What would Paskin have done had he got his hands on her? Revulsion welled inside her.
“Are you all right?” Kyle’s expression softened and he reached for the side of her head. The white-hot sting had receded to a faint throb, but she jerked back before his fingertips could make contact. He frowned and his arm fell back to his side.
“I’m fine,” she told him, gingerly touching the side of her head, and forced a smile. “No bald spot.”
His mouth quirked slightly. “No, your hair is intact. You should report him.”
She snorted before she could stop herself. “Who would believe me over him?”
“I saw him.”
She shrugged. “He’d get a warning, nothing more. Even if someone believed Paskin threatened me—”
“He did a bit more than threaten you,” Kyle snapped.
“No one would side against the man. He thinks I murdered his son, and so does everyone else.”
She turned and gathered the cleanser and scrub brush. “I should get back. This doesn’t seem to be working, anyway.”
And the sooner she was away from Kyle Peirs’s scrutinizing gaze, the better. Her body trembled, limbs soft and rubbery. She was on the verge of shattering and she really didn’t want anyone to see.
“Did you?”
Kyle’s question stopped her midstride. “Did I what?”
“Did you kill his son?”
A thin jolt stabbed her belly. No one had ever asked her outright, not about Griffin or any of the others. Everyone assumed she had, even the police. They’d asked her a thousand questions over and over—when did you see him last, what did he say to you, what was your relationship—but no one had ever asked her if she’d taken a life.
She tilted her head and forced a hard smile. “Having doubts, Mr. Peirs?”
“Did you?”
She jerked a shoulder and turned away, infusing her voice with a light indifference she didn’t feel. “Not that I recall.”
She tossed the supplies into the back of the Land Rover.
A faint touch grazed her elbow. She jumped back and whirled around in one fluid motion.
“Eleri?” Kyle’s gaze shifted from her shaking hands to her face. “You don’t look well.”
“I’m